Paul's Plan
by Iknowtheblues
Summary: Paul woke up to find the horror hand finally come, and he had a plan, survival of the quickest


The digital alarm clock blared at Paul, it shown with bright green numbers that it was three in the morning. He rose from his bed and walked sleepily to the computer, sitting down only for a moment before entering the Java Chat. The server was empty. Paul pulled the plug on his computer, and ripped the phone cord out of the wall. A fury of moments that were driven by pure fear. A cold sweat ran down his spine. His client was never late. The feds must have found him or something. If they were watching the chat they could have tracked his IP address. Paul was still living in his single father's home. Even though his father was away on business, it would not be good to have the FBI knocking on the door. Paul suddenly came to the realization that it was quite noisy for three a.m. He could hear shouts, and screams of terror. He flicked on the T.V. only for a moment, and what he saw changed him for the rest of his life.

The black Fox News Anchor who was usually happy to break any news on the graveyard shift was stunned in fear, and his voice betrayed dismay as he spoke out. "I-I-I say again. This is a state of emergency. No one knows what is wrong with these people, but we do know they are dangerous stay away from all other people, and trust no one." A loud slam could be heard, the sound of wooden doors being torn from there hinges. Paul's door burst open, A woman he had never seen before was standing there. Blood dripping from a huge slash across her chest. Paul jumped back against the far wall on top of his bed, a window at his side and a bookcase at the other. On the middle shelf of the bookcase a sword his father had given him when he returned from Japan a few years back. Paul grabbed the sword with a shaky hand.

" Stay back, S-stay back." His voice was meek and meager, but the woman returned with a hiss that seemed to come from the bowls of hell itself. Paul didn't stick around much longer. He threw open the window and jumped out landing on the hedges he should have been pruning all summer but didn't. He rolled away from the window just quick enough to avoid the woman who was following him out. The scene around Paul was pure insanity. Children were biting and tearing the flesh of there mother who fallen on the sidewalk and what appeared to be left of there father. A man ran past shooting the children with a pistol he brandished, but the kids didn't even flinch, and just kept eating. Words formed in Paul's head with the deep voice of his father behind them. His father had always told him in that singsong know-it-all voice." I work with people Paul, and the only thing constant about people is that they change, like the tide to the moon, and if you don't change with the tide you'll be washed out." 

A hiss could be heard from behind Paul, and he slowly turned to see the woman getting to her feet. Blood was everywhere pouring from her wound, and her skin was a pale yellow in the streetlights luminance. Paul squeezed the handle of the sheathed sword hard. He had never taken it out of the sheath. He couldn't bring himself to look at it. His father gave it too him as gift to try and make up for his mother. This woman had changed, with a sudden realization, Paul heard his father's words again. This woman had changed, and Paul was going to have to change. It didn't matter if she was a mother, or a lover, or a sister. She was going to kill him, just like those kids had killed their parents. Family didn't matter anymore, all that mattered was staying alive. His eyes grew wide and pupils dilated as the woman lunged at him teeth barred. Paul yanked the blade from it's hilt and struck at the woman, closing his eye to avoid the sight of her head being severed, when he looked he was amazed that she was still alive. His eyes darted from her cold blue eyes, to her exposed breasts and slashed torso, to the hilt in his hand, and then to the blade, or rather lack of blade. The hilt was solid and metal, but the blade itself was wooden, beautiful polished purple heart, but none the less wooden. Paul glared at the blade, and dropped it with one word.

"Shit."

He ran, he ran hard. Everything was a blur, acid ran through his veins as he ran through blood covered streets. Everything was alive and moving in the predawn light. His bare feet where covered in blood and his white boxers where see through with sweat, he didn't care anymore because everyone was dead or dying. Every car wreaked every gun taken. On Fifth and Main he found a bloody baseball bat. He snatched it up. It was a thick oak heavy in his tired arms. He never stopped running though. On Second and Main, he saw a T.V. in a store window, the president was speaking. His flesh sweating, "l don't know, we don't know what they are. Just, Just kill them." Just at that moment the sun rose over the cityscape. Paul thanked god, because now he could see, not a second later he was damning him because he could see. These crazed people where everywhere. Paul made no excuses he knew what had happened. These people were zombies, he had seen too many movies to be confused about the nature of what was going on. The creatures where chasing him, hundreds of them. He just kept running, his breathing hard, he found his own personal Zion. A 24 hour gun and ammo depot. He kicked in the barred down and slammed it shut behind him, He could hear the dull thuds of dead bodies hitting the door. But he was more concerned with the shotgun in his face, the long steel tube ending with one pissed off gun shop owner. " Hi."

Paul spoke, and was happy to see the gun lower. Before Paul could speak again the big fat lump of lard that was the gun shop owner spoke. His fat jiggled as his mouth moved. Paul's mind raced with the words." I'm Tiny, and this is my shop, I got food and guns for weeks, Medical supplies for bites and shit, those batches hurt. Grab a gun and get up on the roof and watch for others. "Paul was horrified everything this man said lead to only one possible conclusion. He said this was his shop which meant he was a good shot, he said he had food for weeks which meant the he was going to wait it out, and he mentioned bites, so he obviously wasn't worried about infection. Tiny was going to kill Paul one way or another. He was going to let a bitten person in, or Tiny himself was already bitten, If Paul tried to take guns and leave Tiny would stop him, and if Paul tried to shoot Tiny he would probably miss and get himself killed. The last thing he needed was a fat man with a big gun giving him orders to get himself killed. Paul heard his fathers words coming out of his mouth, and sounding of in his head." Tiny we can't stay here. We have to get out of the city. These creatures will get in soon, we can't keep them out forever, but if we get out into the countryside there will be less people and less zombies. "Tiny smiled and rolled up his selves. A firm bite mark could be seen it was openly bleeding, he started to wrap it with an ace bandage. " You got a point kid I got a hummer out back, The back is fenced with razor wire. Lets box up food and ammo, stock the guns up and leave we can pick up more people on the way. "

Paul was amazed at how easy it was to trick him into working till his death. He felt dirty, he felt like his father. Paul smiled though and brought the bat up against his shoulder. "I'll get the food, you get the gun's you know more about them." Paul really did busy himself with the food but the whole time his mind was racing Tiny wasn't in the least bit surprised or broken up about this. He was one of those sad people who didn't have any family and just held on to the hope that something like this would happen, to where they mattered because they had the guns. People like that were dangerous, and he was sure that he would see a lot more like tiny if he lived long enough. Another reason that Tiny needed to go. Thuds could be heard from the dead hands smacking the door and windows. Paul stacked three boxes of MRE's and walked out the back. The zombies where trying to climb the fence and a few of them were almost over it. He shoved the food in the back of the humvee, military surplus for sure. Tiny walked out with guns and ammunition pouring from cases and bags, he put them all in the back. Paul shouted " What about that big one I saw over the counter! " Tiny dropped the guns and returned inside for just a moment he walked back out with the massive gun and was saying " Good call kid this is the Barrette .50 caliber sniper rifle. " But, Paul was no where in sight. He was hiding behind the door which swung outward. When Tiny looked from the left to the right scanning for him Paul struck. Smashing the hard wooden bat over Tiny's head. With a sickening crack The fat man fell into a slump on the floor. Paul struck again, the hitting nothing but a wet puddle and concrete. He grabbed the gun and the keys throwing the gun in the trunk and closing it and starting the car. He stopped only to say farewell to Tiny, who lay limp on the floor. " I'm sorry, survival of the quickest, and I won't owe anyone. Not in this new world. "

Paul was right on many levels He needed to leave then and right then, and Tiny would always be the "leader" if he brought the guns, and "leaders" always get everyone killed in the movies. Paul's seventeen year old foot slammed down on the gas peddle, and he peeled out of the parking space, smashing down the gate. A few wet slaps could be heard as the big thick rubber tires mowed down a few of the things. Paul was finding it hard to keep his mind focused. He looked at the clock. It had only been two and a half hours sense he woke up. And he had been attack by zombies and killed a man. He tried to rationalize what he had done, but what if he was wrong? He didn't have long to think, he had just gotten back to the main road and really opened up the humvee, topping out going down Main, as he saw a man and a young girl flagging him down. The girl was about fifteen, the man was about forty, must have been her father. Paul stopped short and reached into the back grabbing an Uzi with a long clip and another magazine that had been taped upside down for quick reload. As Paul opened the door he cocked the gun.

The man's voice was shaking and hard to understand. " Please you have to take us with you. You have to." Paul was cold in his response he leveled the gun as he spoke. " Have you been bitten? " The little girl screamed out a shrill and annoying gesture. " Please no that's just in the movies, he won't turn into one of them, please don't." Paul walked closer to the pair. The man held on to his little girl tightly. His voice was more stern. "Are you going to kill me and take her, Is my death that sure ?" Paul looked at him with caring eyes really wishing he had a different answer. " I can't take that chance, I won't make you give her to me, I won't kill you, but you will die, and I will not let you in my car." The zombies could be heard in the distance. One ran behind them. Paul turned and shredded the creatures with lead. It hit the floor and wriggled. " Make you're choice quickly. I'll give you a gun, but I won't give you a ride. I'm not risking anything." The man turned white, and pushed his weeping daughter into Paul's arm's. The girl screamed and clawed to get away. Paul couldn't have that. He brought the butt of the gun down on her head, and she went limp, knocked out cold. He opened the back seat door and put her in, He jumped in the front seat and started the humvee. He spoke in a soft melancholy tone. " I'll take care of her. What's her name? " Paul handed him the Uzi, through the window. " Lee, and tell her I love her." Paul let go of the gun, and hit the gas peddle and he was off. As he speed away he heard the clack of a single round coming out of a semi-automatic weapon. Paul didn't stop to pick up anyone else. Oh he saw them, but he didn't pick them up. Not after what he just did to that family. When she woke up it would be hard to explain what had happened. She was still so young. Not that Paul was old. He was only nineteen, but it seemed so much older. He drove on the torn freeway weaving in and out of fires and wreckage, he could see human parts here and there. It was all to much. His head hurt, with the thought that this could actually be happening. His hand twitched as he smashed the radio, all he got was the high pitched squeal of static. He could hear rustling in the second seat of the humvee. She finally woke up, and it wasn't anything like he expected. She crawled into the front seat, and looked over at Paul , didn't say a word, and didn't cry. She just sat there. A long time passed, lots of dead bodies past along the roadside, until she finally spoke. "Did you do it or him?" " I didn't see anything, I gave him the gun and left, I heard him shooting as we left, maybe..." She cut him off. " Maybe nothing he is dead, Did you do it!" His response, was curt. " No! "

It was silence for the longest time. Until she finally spoke. "So what the plan hero. To the mountains or to the countryside." Paul had to laugh, the question was a joke to

him, she was so direct no tack at all. She was asking where he was a Red Dawn fanatic with all the guns because he thought the Ruskies were coming sooner or later, or

if he was a Night of the Living Dead fanatic who was going to hold up in the countryside, until it all stopped. " Neither, this is real life sweetheart, We are going to where

nothing can survive but humans. I think they are just dying tissue that is still moving, so if we get out to the desert, they will dry out and crumble." She shook her head, and

smiled. " The desert is far away incase you haven't noticed this is New York." Paul slammed on the breaks and pointed at the nearest zombie. If you don't like it get the

fuck out." Tears welled in her eyes, and she began to sob again, he long black hair getting stuck to the side of her face from the damp tears. He eased on the gas again. "

Stop crying I didn't mean that." She looked at him with a cold glare. " Are you that stupid. I'm not crying over you, he's dead! HE'S DEAD!" It took Paul a moment to realize

what she was talking about. Which showed a lot about the relationship he had with his own father. Yet again Paul fond his father's own slimy words coming out of his

mouth. " Lee, your father loved you, he told me to tell you that. And, he did what was best for you. I know it's not easy, and I know it hurt, but we are going to see a lot of

dead people before this is over, you have to understand it's survival of the quickest now, not fittest. No more tears, not for him, he would want you head straight so you can

survive." Paul slammed on the breaks as he said Survive and can to a screeching halt behind a school bus, that was filled with children on the freeway. Paul jumped out to

see the a few adult trying to fix it. " Why are you out here? " Paul called to them, He looked down the road, he could already see zombies coming running as fast as there

dead legs would let them. The one working on the engine spoke. " We broke down and the convoy wouldn't stop..." Paul spoke, in a short sentences that carried the tone

that they needed to be answered and with respect. " Lee on the bus now! Calm those kids down. You keep change that tire, you two can you fire guns ? " The two men

nodded. Paul opened the trunk and picked out shotguns and pistols handing the over with extra ammo. " Do not leave these kids here. Fix that fucking thing, and cover

him. " Paul walked to the trunk and fond a pair of pant's and finally got dressed in camo pants nine sizes to big, luckily there was a belt. He started packing on gun's

pistols all the way around, an Mp5 hanging off each shoulder. He started walking towards the zombies that where running to meet the living bodies. There numbers were

growing. It looked like half the city was chasing after them. One of the men called at him. " Here." Paul turned in time to see a tire iron flying through the air. He picked it

up and flicked off the man, like it was going to do any good. He dropped to a knee and leveled the first auto Mp5. Telling himself " Just point and shoot, never aim." The air

was broken by the sharp Clackity Clack, or shells bursting and littering the pavement. He tagged four with the first clip, but they were getting closer and there was only

twenty feet between him and the bus, ten between him and his humvee. He emptied another clip, and another, then switched guns to the second Mp5. He emptied it too.

Everyone he brought down five zombies replace it. They were like locust. Paul called back at the bus. " Hurry, Some one get in my humvee and get ready to drive! " As he

pulled out his first set of pistols, The hammer clicked back, and with a whip crack the bullet pierced a zombies head from front to back. Paul's fingers were bleeding from

the hair triggers ripping into the soft flesh. And then they were on him, point blank, he was dropping one after another, Until he was empty, every gun gone. He tried to run,

but he broke his own rules. People like Tiny were dangerous. " Leaders " got people killed. And, as the zombies ripped him to bits he only had time to think. " This wasn't

how it was going to happen." 


End file.
